


Fly Me To The Moon

by Hearsesay



Category: Donnie Darko (2001), Hereditary (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Dumb teenagers being dumb teenagers, Hurt/Comfort, I promise this isn't as intense as the tags make it seem, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Recreational Drug Use, Tags May Change, Trauma, Underage Drinking, just boys in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 08:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hearsesay/pseuds/Hearsesay
Summary: Peter's coping. Not thriving, not suffering, but coping.Donnie's adjusting. Not comfortable, not distressed, but adjusting.So who the hell are they to go ahead and get their paths tangled up?..A multi chapter fanfic exploring the growing romance between these two sad stoners on the cusp of adulthood, self discovery, and healing. Also Brendan's there! Shenanigans and emotions ensue.





	1. The Beginning

The car was way too hot for April. Peter could feel a bead of sweat work it’s way down the back of his neck, catching on the collar of his shirt and leaving a damp patch in his place. Sweat slipped through his fingers, down his back, the side of his head, under his arms, smearing in a slippery wake over the faux leather of the steering wheel. He cursed once his hand finally dropped from the wheel, digging his fingernails into the wet material and jamming his thumb against the window switch.

Cool air flowed in, the car filled with the whir of tires against asphalt and the hum that came from moving against the wind’s current. Why was the radio still off? Whatever, he probably wouldn’t be able to hear much over the noise. Peter reached up to wipe his forehead. Why was it so loud? It was like he couldn’t focus, no, it was too loud for him to make out the end of the road. How was he supposed to be able to drive through this heat, the sound of the wind, the road, his breathing, Charlie’s gurgling?

Wait, Charlie?

Peter twisted around in his seat, the road a distant memory as he met eyes with Charlie, purple in the face as she thrashed around the backseat. Sweat and tears shone over blotchy skin, little lips parted as spit dripped over her chin. A little hand was slapping. No it was gripping. No it was somewhere and she was screaming and he was screaming and someone was crying and they were going so fast and the wind was so loud and a pole was coming and it was coming and it was there and metal was crunching and Peter couldn't breathe and Charlie was gone and

  
  


And Peter was opening his eyes, sucking in a breath as his body relaxed against the too warm blankets that made up his bedspread.

He sat up slowly and grabbed for his phone. Six AM, five minutes before his alarm was set to go off. The morning light had yet to cut through the window in Peter's bedroom, still hazy and muddled as he rolled out of bed to start his day.

Getting ready was a quick affair, quietly shuffling around his room to sniff tee shirts living on the carpet and eventually settle on the same blue jeans and hoodie combo as the week before. Gargle some mouthwash, run fingers through his hair, grab his backpack, and shuffle down the stairs to drink some water before his throat crumbled into dust. He kept his footing light as he moved through the house. It was still dark all throughout, Peter being the only high school student in the household. Not that he really minded, breakfast to himself seemed better than not these days. 

His hand felt along the kitchen wall, fingers brushing at the paint until they found purchase on the plastic light switch, snapping the lights on.

“Charlie, Jesus Christ!”

Charlie jolted in her seat, eyes squinting at the new light as she turned to look at her older brother.

“You scared the shit out of me, God,” Peter let out a short breath, making his way towards the fridge. He got out a cup and shoved it under the faucet of the sink until it spilled out the sides. The temperature didn’t really matter at this point in the day. Wiping under his chin, Peter looked behind his shoulder to get a glimpse of his sister. “Why are you up this early? I thought you had another hour.”

Charlie wasn’t exactly the biggest kid her age. She was, well, kid shaped and kid shaped usually entailed someone fairly small in the grand scheme of the world. But she still managed to look far too small at the kitchen table, tugging at the sleeves of her night shirt. “I wanted to say good morning.”

“Oh.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Do you uh, do you want some toast?” Peter offered, checking his phone. He had time.

Charlie nodded, blinking a few times before reaching up to rub at her eyes. Peter just nodded back, busying himself with pulling out some bread and butter, popping the slice in the toaster before risking another look at his sister. Not that much had changed, her stare redirected towards the wood grain of the table. Little hands pulled a thread from her shirt, blue fabric pulled down to let a shiny sliver of scarred skin crawl up her neck. Peter looked away.

He was quick to butter the toast and, after a few seconds of conflict, cut the crust away. Peter popped it into his mouth, setting the toast down in front of her. It wasn’t really a healthy breakfast, but their mom would probably force her to eat an orange or something before it was time for her to get to school.

“I’m heading out, don’t pass out in class.”

“Bye.”

Peter’s hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Bye, Charlie.”

He sprinted past his mom’s car and hoped that he wouldn’t get too sweaty biking to school.

* * *

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to puke in my shoes, I’d really appreciate it if you at least paid for me to get them cleaned.”

“Your shoes were pretty ugly anyways,” Peter hummed, setting up some paper on his desk. “Are you sure the puke wasn’t an upgrade?”

“Fuck off!” Brendan launched a pen at Peter’s shoulder, ultimately failing to hide the laugh bubbling past his lips. It dinked against him with a harmless tap, rolling back over to Brendan’s desk as he bent down to pick it up. 

Someone had propped open the classroom windows, letting the cool October air and sun make its way into the room, students filing in to take their seats. The first two periods of the day had given everyone some time to really wake up and get their heads a little out of that early morning funk. Not that creative writing was a particularly rough class, there was a reason as to why it was mostly seniors, but it still helped make the whole experience of basic education a little more tolerable. You know, to do important things like writing five minute minimalist poems and vampire erotica disguised as studies of social power structures. 

“It’s not my fault that Fila makes ugly ass space shoes. Which, by the way, I’m so sure that Disruptors are made for women I swear that’s true-”

“Oh my God can you two shut up?” Bridget twisted around in her seat, sending a half hearted glare towards the two boys. Peter could feel himself shrink back a bit, muttering an apology as she turned to face the front again. Brendan flipped off the back of her head with a snort. Great. Wow. Good one, Graham.

Everyone calmed down within a minute of class, the loud rambling quieting to a few low frenzied whispers as they started on the daily writing prompt scribbled atop the white board.

‘If you could visit wherever you wanted, where would you go and why?’

Anywhere Peter wanted, huh. He let his gaze sweep across the classroom, taking in what was around him. Aaron was already fiddling with his phone, dirty blonde hair a wavering gold under the slice of sunlight hitting the room. Bridget was tugging at a frayed belt loop as her pencil scratched across the surface of her notebook. That goth girl, Sarah or Samantha or Sophia, had already fallen asleep at her desk with a streak of white foundation streaking the wood along with a thin string of drool. And Mrs.Mendez was standing in the classroom doorway, talking in a low voice to someone standing just out of eye shot. His eyes moved back to the open window. A bluebird landed on a tree, hopping over the branches.

He’d rather be anywhere but here.

Peter scribbled down some nonsense about wanting to go to Los Angeles and let his chin fall into his hand, eyes flitting back to the whiteboard and the dark haired guy standing in front of it.

Oh.

That was new.

“Everyone, time’s up, eyes up here,” Mrs.Mendez called, wiping down the daily prompt with a few broad strokes of her eraser. She took a second to dust off her hands before facing the class. “I know we’re a little bit into the start of this school year but we have the pleasure of welcoming a new student all the way from Virginia. Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

The guy lifted his head a tad, eyes moving across the width of the classroom in a few quick streaks. He had a set of watery blue eyes under thick brows and what one would probably call a handsome, if not clearly unimpressed, face.

“Hi, my name’s Donnie. I’m a senior,” His lips pressed together, weight shifting back to his heels. “Thanks for having me.”

Mrs.Mendez paused as if she was expecting him to say something else. When it became clear that Donnie wasn’t going to let up on any more information, she gave him a pat on the shoulder, seeming not to notice when his arm jerked forwards. “You can take the free desk by the window, let me know if you need anything.”

Donnie just nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his blue jeans as he made his way to the side of the class, dropping his bag and taking a seat in the corner of Peter’s eye. Peter wasn’t the peppiest guy around but Jesus Christ this guy seemed like something else.

“Alright everyone, pull out your drafts from last week’s sonnet project. Today’s a free editing period-”

And that was Peter’s cue to zone out, noting the unread texts on his phone from Brendan, the menace still tapping at his screen with worrying speed. Whatever. He’d let himself space away for this period, not like there was any reason for him not to.

And if he found himself glancing towards this new guy a few times? Well, you can’t blame a guy for being curious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenagers speculate and Brendon just wants to be a solid bro.

“So, how many people do you think he’s killed?”

Peter looked up from his mac and cheese, abandoning his spork in the yellow goo. “Huh?”

“That new kid, Denny! Do you think it’s just one? He seems more like a Manson Family kind of guy to me,” Brendan was addressing the lunch table, eyebrows vanishing under his shaggy bangs. He was brandishing his Slim Jim like a ruler, letting it wave out front. “But I wouldn’t rule out a crime of passion. You can never underestimate baby blues, man.”

Aaron shook his head, snatching the snack from Brendan. “One, it’s Donnie. Two, it definitely wasn’t murder. He’d be in jail, dumb ass.”

“So you think he’s innocent?”

“Oh no, he’s definitely set a baby rabbit on fire.”

"A cat."

"Why not both?"

"Wait hold on," Peter said. “Why do we think Donnie's a baby animal murderer?"

Two sets of eyes landed on him, a quick stepping second of silence interrupting their response. Peter found himself squirming under the attention. Not that he wasn’t used to it from them, but because they were looking at him like he was one hundred percent brain dead. Maybe they weren’t completely wrong on that front.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not,” He stabbed his fork into a limp noodle, shoving it into his mouth. “He sure looks like a guy. He’s literally been here for less than four hours.”

There was that look again. 

“You seriously haven’t checked any of the texts I sent you?”

Peter let his eyes roll back before looking to Brendan, this time finally abandoning his lunch in favor of the conversation at hand. “If I looked at every text you sent me during class I’d still be reading them.”

“Dude,” Brendan slumped back into his seat. He’d almost feel bad about it if they hadn’t had this conversation at least once a week. Still, Brendan had these big watery blue eyes. The kind that made you feel like shit if you made him frown too harshly. As if it ever lasted though, Brendan already leaning forwards with his lips stretched into a low grin. “Everyone knows that he got kicked out of this nice private Christian school in Iowa. I heard he went full atomic bomb on their school mascot.”

“Pretty sure he decked some teacher in the face.” Aaron countered. 

It was hard to imagine that quiet kid from earlier as the type of guy to attack someone like that. Peter didn’t really know much about Donnie besides the fact that he transferred in from Iowa, so maybe Donnie was that kind of guy, the kind of kid unhinged enough to blow up on someone for whatever reason. He definitely didn’t look like the friendliest of people. Uncomfortable, at the very least.

“So we cover our asses by talking about him, smart move. That won’t make him upset.” 

Brendon snorted into his flat root beer, blond hair bobbing in front of his eyes. Lunch didn’t last for very long after that.

There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that there was something deeply fucked up in his head. Sure, it wasn’t exactly news. He was pretty sure that anyone with two sets of functioning eyes and both ear drums intact could tell that there was something wrong with him. It wasn’t the greasy hair or three day old clothes. Part of his brain wondered who wasn’t depressed these days.

What really let him know was how quickly the school days were seeping by, days which used to slug on at a pace he thought would never end now passing by after each blink. It sounded like heaven for a teenager. Peter was just left with a feeling of disbalance. The ground under his feet tipping, slowly, off of its center.

\- - -

Peter and Brendon resembled something akin to a balancing monkey act, Brendon’s overgrown self latched onto Peter’s thin shoulders as his bike wobbled up the driveway. The two of them were probably too grown to pull this kind of stunt anymore. They continued to do so anyways, heavy footed as they stepped off and let the bike clatter against the concrete. Bikes everywhere spent their time being carelessly dropped by wayward teens on front lawns and yet Peter’s was finally starting to look worse for wear.

“Are you sure they’re cool with me sleeping over on a Monday?” Brendon asked. Peter just nodded, fishing around in his jeans pocket before pulling out a house key and cracking open the front door.

“We’re home! Brendon’s sleeping over!” 

The two didn’t wait for a response as they toed off their sneakers, jogging up the stairs to hole up in Peter’s room until the time they’d eventually get called down. Peter was pretty sure his dad was home anyways. He’d been coming home earlier for the past few months.

Brendon was quick to flop back across the bed. His flannel splayed out over the bedspread, hooked on by broad shoulders and friction. He was a familiar fixture in Peter’s room at this point. Years spent practicing handstands and arguing over music. Getting ready for the sixth grade formal and pacing around their first day of freshman year. He was as much a part of the room as his sheets or his guitar; the only difference was that Brendon had grown and grown. He could have probably gotten into a sport if he wanted. Football or water polo. But Peter couldn’t imagine him smashing into someone with that dopey rubber smile on his lips.

His hands had also gotten pretty massive, but Peter had made a resolute decision to ignore that.

They worked on homework for as long as they could stand to do it without getting distracted. Of course this meant half an hour of government and two hours of running through YouTube videos of daytime court case shows. Peter was having some pretty strong opinions on whether or not Tyree should pay the later half of his rent when four small knocks sounded against his bedroom door.

Charlie.

“Yeah, come in.” He paused the video playing on his desktop, turning in time to see Charlie slowly push the door open. She shuffled her bare feet against the hardwood at the sight of someone else’s socks poking from the bedframe, stilling once Brendon’s face popped into view.

“Dad said we’re getting pizza,” She mumbled. “Vegetable. Does he want peperoni?”

“You know it, Charles.” Brendon lifted his fingers into a pair of pistols, firing them off in her direction. That’s all it took to pull the slip of a smile from between her sleeves, shutting the door as she left with a gentle click. Peter was ready to start the video back up again when he felt eyes meet the nape of his neck.

“Hey, man.”

“Yeah?”

“Is Charlie doing good? After everything?” Brendon asked, sitting up to perch on the edge of Peter’s bed. “You don’t have to tell me or anything. I’ve just been thinking about it.”

Something warm and easy nestled in the center of Peter’s ribcage. “I think so? Maybe. She’s clingier but that just means we don’t ignore each other anymore. I don’t know if that’s normal, or…”

Part of Peter was grateful that Brendon nodded without saying anything. That he didn’t pretend that he knew what it was all like.

“She’ll be happy you asked.”

“Oh yeah, I’m totally a fourteen year old girl heart throb.” Brendon cracked, dodging the eraser Peter chucked his way. It devolved into a half hearted wrestle after that. The strange grappling between two boys too old and big to go all out, lest someone’s socked foot crack open a picture frame. They found themselves breaking apart at a call for dinner and the deep innate desire to inhale cheese on bread.

It was less quiet with Brendon around to fill the silence. The pizza called for paper plates and sitting in front of the TV, playing a documentary on rubber trees that Peter’s dad was rather invested in while Charlie peeled cheese from her slices and dumped the extras onto the side of Peter’s plate. How she could eat something so plain and slimy, Peter just didn’t get. 

Peter’s mom just ate her piece and left the viewing party early, retreating to her bedroom. He didn’t think about how that felt.

They waited until Charlie had been tucked into bed and Mr.Graham had returned to his room for the night to break out Brendon’s dab pen, the two laid out across Peter’s sheets. It was an inoffensive piece of grey plastic. With weed. Marijuana. A substance that he was totally fine taking less than a year ago. Just sitting there, harmless.

And yet.

“You don’t have to take a hit.”

“I know.” Peter snorted, eyeing the pen as it heated up. 

“And you know I’m totally cool not smoking tonight either if you don’t feel up for it.”

“Man, come on.”

“Just saying! I am down for just going to bed early or like, watching some Judge Judy and calling it a night.”

“Brendon.”  
“Mm?”

Peter glanced back towards the dab pen, stared. Eyed it up like he was inspecting a particularly interesting console. A quick shot of bile burned up his throat before he pulled his eyes away.

“I’m actually uh, cool just going to bed now. Sorry.” He frowned, scratching under his knee. Nope, didn’t feel lame at all, not from having to physically look away from the pen. Totally chill normal teenage dude stuff. Radical.

The bed frame creaked as Brendon leaned over to drop the offending item into the void of his backpack, flopping back against Peter’s side. He was decked out in a pair of Peter’s old flannel pajama pants and a time worn tee from summer camp. It was all soft and familiar. “Don’t apologize, I was ready to pass out anyways. Pretty sure your mattress is made of angel butts.”

“Eloquent.”

“Don’t pretend you know what that means.”

Laughter snickered about as they got comfortable in bed, Brendon’s makeshift blanket bed left abandoned on the floor. It was a fight fit, but Peter didn’t mind. How could he when Brendon was basically a walking heated blanket? He could probably rent him out to depressed teenagers to hug in their sleep. That wasn’t the worst idea, actually.

With the lights shut off everything was bathed in a deep blue. Or so Peter knew from prior experience, eyes closed as he lay on his back. Sleep was beginning to creep up the sides of his neck and make the world hazy. Monday had managed to wring Peter out in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. Like the world had shifted just ever so slightly to the left and everyone was still trying to keep up.

“This Donnie guy,” Brendon whispered, breath hot against the top of Peter’s hair. “Think he’s as crazy as everyone’s saying?”

“No way.”

“That’s no fun.”

Peter huffed out a low laugh, letting himself sink against the other’s side, drifting off. It was only after he’d fallen asleep that Peter dreamed of some unknown school mascot, smashed and melted and torn apart in every which way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am so sorry for how long this took. My first semester of college has been absolutely kicking my ass and draining some of those motivational juices. I hope you all enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Wowwww okay, so this is my first ever long form fic that follows a linear story! I've never done this before so any critique or comments are greatly appreciated. I just really love these two and wanted to give it some slower exploration.  
> Like my stuff? Check out my writing [tumblr](www.hearsesay.tumblr.com) !  
> Want to get a little more up close and personal? Check out my personal [tumblr](www.recordsandroses.tumblr.com) !


End file.
